From Death to Birth
by Misirou
Summary: "Death brings out the best in people." he mused, observing what he had accomplished with a pleased grin.  Paul/OC
1. Age of Innocence

**FROM DEATH TO BIRTH**

**Age of Innocence**

"_Si je t'aime, prends garde à toi!"_

A high pitched voice singing in French wrenched Abby out of her pleasant sleep. The volume hurt her ears and for a moment she was disoriented and mortified.

Her body tensed when she realized where the blaring music emanated from. She jerked the earphones out before they could do any further damage to her ears and opened her eyes. Her hands shook slightly as she turned off her MP3.

"Abbs, are you okay?"

It was common for Abby to fall asleep listening to her songs on shuffle. It was even more common for her to forget to turn down the sound and wake up to ear-piercing opera or deafening screamo.

"Yeah, fine." she replied, waving her hand passively. "Carmen woke me up."

Connor raised his eyebrows and gave Abby a questioning gaze.

"Carmen." clarified Abby. "She sang Habanera?"

His expression remained.

"God, you Neanderthal." she sighed and gave him a playful punch.

"_What?_" he whined, feigning annoyance. "I don't like ancient music."

"It wouldn't hurt you if you tried being a bit more cultivated. Maybe some Rossini... or Beethoven." muttered Abby, tapping her lip in contemplation. "Heck, even something as mainstream as Mozart would help!"

"Uh, how about no? I'll stick with Iggy and Gene Simmons." laughed Connor leaning back in his seat and scratching his mop of blonde hair. "Simpler."

"_Much more _simple." corrected Abby under her breath.

"Grammar Nazi."

"Infidel."

"Anal-girl."

"Your exchange of words is magical, but could we please revert to the silence we were previously so content with?" interrupted Richard, who, it seemed, had been peacefully napping next to Connor up until now.

"I second that notion." added Vincent from the drivers seat, his eyes remaining glued onto the road. "You guys know how focused I need to be when I drive. So let's not make this Abby's last birthday party, please?"

There was an unanimous murmur of agreement in which Connor and Abby subtly grinned at each other.

"We'll be there in about 3 hours anyway."

Groans of disdain erupted.

Abby shook her head, a giddy smile plastered on her face, and then turned to look out of the window at the objects whizzing by.

She observed the scenery for a while before letting her eyes wander to the front rear-view mirror. In it she could clearly see Lindsay, who was dead-asleep in the front seat of the car, and (she laughed to herself) drooling slightly.

The five friends were on their way to a lake house that Lindsay's parents had generously lent them for the weekend, in honor of Abby's 21st birthday. Lindsay had rented paintball guns and armor (a mutual interest among the five friends) and Vincent had somehow managed to acquire a cheap car. Abby was extremely grateful for having the chance to escape her stressful sophomore year in college. And extremely flattered that her friends had taken such initiative.

The only thing that Abby hoped was that this weekend would go by smoothly. She was well aware that having Lindsay and Vincent together for a long period of time never ended nicely. They were boyfriend and girlfriend, and they truly loved each other dearly, but it seemed as if they swerved onto completely different wavelengths at random times. What baffled Abby was how they had remained together for so many years. But in the end, they always restated their love for each other, and there was peace on Earth once more.

While observing the buildings that were flying by, Abby felt Connor's hand beginning to gently stroking her hair. She hesitated for a while before finally deciding to lean into him; to simply enjoy the warmth of his arm.

The two remained that way for a while; Connor steadily caressing her head and Abby happily awaiting his next touch. Soon she memorized his pace, even noticing whenever one of his strokes was too slow.

Abby closed her eyes, knowing that what she was doing was wrong. Too many times had she acted tactlessly around Connor, constantly doing things that mislead him into thinking that she wanted more from him. More than once she had to tell him that she didn't love him in a romantic way; it was more brotherly than anything. And every time he took it maturely and continued to love her unconditionally.

Whenever Abby thought about Connor, her emotions became unreadable, bending and twisting within each other, confusing her even more. She knew she loved him, but didn't want to get serious. What scared her most was that she couldn't be faithful unless she tried incredibly hard. It was difficult for her not to flirt with guys she liked, and she simply couldn't imagine living with Connor for the rest of her life. At her age, she thought, she didn't want such a tie. A career and her freedom came first.

And Abby had always imagined herself with another man; some faceless figure whose personality seemed to match every dream he was in. Some bodiless thing that didn't exist; outgoing and shy, romantic and realistic, serious and playful, loving and hateful, profound and superficial, spontaneous and secure. Everything humans couldn't be at once.

Abby began to feel uncomfortable with these thoughts, sitting so close to Connor. A childish fear that he could read her mind made her shift guiltily.

His strokes ceased, and he switched to tugging at her hair randomly. Abby nudged him with her shoulder, and she flinched as he plucked out pieces of her hair. Her eyes opened as she felt something tickling her nose, and focused on a few wispy brown strands dangling in front of her face. She blew at them.

Lindsay had finally stirred, now stretching her arms awkwardly and arching her back. Little sighs emanated from her mouth, followed by groans, common to those who waking up from sleeping in strange positions.

It seemed that Lindsay's awakening had triggered that of Richard's, who sat up straight, rolling his neck and scratching his dark face. He looked at Abby and grinned, waving "good morning". She smiled and waved back with her fingers.

Connor turned and quickly twisted his fingers into one of Richard's dreadlocks.

"Mornin' Dick." he laughed, tugging lightly.

"I swear on all things holy, I will bite your finger off." growled Richard, raising a bushy eyebrow intimidatingly.

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Abby flung open the door and slid out of the car. She sighed, stretching skywards, and immediately took off running laps around the car, enjoying the feeling of her blood pumping easily through her veins.

The air smelled amazing, enriched by the lake and the myriad fertile plants that thrived there. She stopped and stared at the house, while everyone else clambered out of the car behind her. It was magnificently built, with a strong structural integrity and a white stucco exterior. From an architectural point of view it was a masterpiece, well worth its price.

"Hey Abby! Don't be useless!" shouted Richard, already lugging bags full of paintball attire**.**

"Shut up! It's her birthday!" scolded Lindsay, tying her hair up in a ponytail. "She's supposed to be in bliss. It's not everyday you turn 21."

"Technically..." he started to argue, but changed his wording mid-sentence. "Actually, not _technically_. Her birthday's _tomorrow_, not today." He dropped off his cargo with a grunt.

"It's _doesn't_ _matter!"_ Abby intervened quickly, not wanting another heated debate between her friends. "Besides, birthdays aren't much different from any other day of the year."

Lindsay raised her eyebrows at Abby, then turned to Richard and punched him lightly in the arm.

"Hey, I'm just messing with you." she laughed, but the tiniest hint of annoyance was still to be heard in her voice.

"I pity the foo'..." snorted Richard shaking his head.

Abby sighed deeply and rubbed her eyes.

_'This might not be as relaxing as I hoped it would be.'_

Taking a deep breath she walked back to the car where Connor handed her her bags. She smiled at him and he gave her a mock salute, winking one of his delightfully blue eyes.

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

"Permission granted." Abby replied in a gruff voice, playing along.

"I'm going to kick your ass in paintball tomorrow."

She looked at him with an expression of disbelief.

"Too bold, Private." she stated, smirking. "I guess I'll have to demoralize you more than usual when we battle."

Connor simply grinned, slung a duffel bag over his shoulder, and walked past her towards the house. Abby shook her head, still smiling, when she suddenly felt a few drops of rain hit her face. She blinked and looked up at the sky, which was visibly grayer than before, with clouds accumulating quickly. Abby ran to follow Connor into the house.

She caught up to him, where he was standing in front of the house, his head down, standing rigid.

"What's wrong?"

The expression on his face worried her.

"Just listen." Connor murmured, looking like he wanted to punch something. His brow was furrowed, and his fist clenched tightly around the strap of the bag.

Abby's mouth opened slightly, but she heard what Connor was referring to. From inside the house emanated sounds of shouting, and she could distinctly recognize Lindsay's screeching voice versus Vincent's deep one. They were fighting once again.

Immediate fury cursed through Abby and she looked at Connor incredulously, trying hard not to look like she was about to cry. Which she made sure she wouldn't.

"Really?" she barely got out, slamming down her things and running her hands through her hair.

Connor stepped over to her, put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head with evident empathy. Abby pushed him away lightly, claiming she was fine, but he persistently grabbed her hand. She put her other one to her forehead, and sighed.

"What _is it_ with them?" she moaned. "_She _can't control her temper! Not even for me! She's such a _hypocrite_ sometimes!"

Abby looked up as the door opened and Richard exited the house, the same murderous expression on his face that Connor had previously worn.

"What's it about this time?" questioned Connor, quickly stepping away from Abby.

"Some battle of the sexes." Richard griped, rolling his eyes. "He tried helping her with her luggage, saying she _couldn't do it on her own." _The emphasis on the last part was strong.

They all looked at each other knowing exactly what that meant. Vincent had crossed the line; Lindsay would be furious for hours on end. She had strong feminist beliefs and took offense in anything that demoted her and the female species. Telling her she couldn't do something was one of them. It seemed that her tolerance had been incredibly short this time, and Vincent hadn't been able to sense that.

Abby exhaled quickly, swinging both her her arms downward in one motion.

"Okay, let's make the best of this..."

She opened the door and strode into the house.

_ "Who's up for a game of Monopoly?"_

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"M'kay..." contemplated Richard, staring at his cards. "I'll give you my Boardwalk for... _all_ the green properties you own!"

Everybody was situated inside the antique living room, sheltered by socks, cushions, and the heater from the freezing and pouring rain outside. The Monopoly board lay on the coffee table; the dog had been placed in jail, and the car was on its side.

Lindsay sat cross-legged on the floor next to the table, leaning against the couch and repeatedly counting her money. Vincent was adjacent to her and the coffee table on an extremely cushioned sofa, running his hands up and down the brown fabric. Matters hadn't improved much between the two.

Richard was slouched comfortably on the couch behind Lindsay, eying Vincent and impatiently awaiting his decision. Connor had been leaning back, seemingly relaxed, into the pillows next to Vincent. He had earned himself jail-time by rolling three doubles. Abby knelt next to Lindsay on the floor, frowning at the few dollars she had left in her possession.

"Come on, man. Ten seconds left on the offer..." urged Richard, waving his cards provocatively into Vinny's periphery.

Vinny tsked and smiled, finally exchanging his three green properties with Richard's two blue ones.

"_Yessss!_" cheered Richard as he slapped down the cards, and began to flip through his money. "I'm putting three houses on green!"

Everyone groaned, making random gestures of disappointment.

As Abby laughed and grabbed the dice to roll them, the doorbell echoed throughout the house, making everyone stop and look at each other.

For a moment there was a confused silence.

"Who - " Connor began, but Abby interrupted him.

"I'll get it!" She placed the dice on the table and jumped up. Weaving around Lindsay and an armchair, she skipped outside into the hallway, letting out a relieved sigh as she did so. The tension in the living room was almost palpable, and she was exhilarated to finally have a few moments to herself.

Abby walked past the kitchen to the oak wood front door as the doorbell rang again.

"Coming!" she cried, a bit put off by the random visitor's lack in patience.

Flipping open the cap of the peephole, she balanced on her tip-toes and looked through it.

In a fish-eye view Abby saw a round face with delicate yet masculine features, framed by wet, dirty blond hair and centered with blue eyes much like Connor's. The eyes shifted around, and the man outside of the door looked at his gloved hands. He then raised his gaze to the peephole.

For a moment, Abby felt like he was able to see her. She reassured herself that that wasn't possible.

Not wanting to annoy the visitor, she unlocked the door and gave her best welcome, though she was wary of the stranger standing in front of her. Abby now noticed his obnoxiously white clothes which were completely soaked.

"Uh..." she stuttered, suddenly drained of her confidence. "Hi... How can I help you?"

The man's reddish lips stretched into a queer half-smile on his face, and he began to speak with a soft and strange voice.

"Sorry to disturb you..." he began. "I'm living next door with Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. Anna - " he lowered his eyes for a moment and laughed lightly. "I mean, Mrs. Thompson was wondering if you had four eggs to spare."

Abby had no idea who Mr. and Mrs. Thompson were. Nor had she ever actually heard of people borrowing groceries from each other in real life. Who didn't have enough groceries?

She was debating whether or not to get Lindsay when a clap of thunder that sounded extremely close caused her to jump slightly. The stranger raised his eyebrows and looked up at the rain, which had increased noticeably. A few stray raindrops hit his face and Abby realized how horrible she was being at that moment, having this man waiting outside.

"You know what..." she said decisively, opening the door further and smiling warmly. "Please, come in. I'm sure we can live without a few eggs."

**9:00 PM**

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First chapter up, to see how this might turn out. :)

Harsh criticism is appreciated and loved!


	2. Beginning is the End is the Beginning

**FROM DEATH TO BIRTH**

**The Beginning is the End is the Beginning**

Abby politely stepped back as the quiet man passed through the entrance, running a hand through his wet hair and observing the hallway he'd just entered. She closed the door and turned around, smiling awkwardly at the stranger who had wiped all the rain off his face with his white gloves.

She observed his bad posture. He stood a tiny bit slouched, and, in the yellow light of the small chandelier suspended above both of them, he suddenly looked haggard, as though he hadn't slept in ages.

When Abby noticed that he was smiling at her expectantly she pushed back her thoughts and rigidly made her way past him into the elegant kitchen, opening the fridge to retrieve the eggs.

After grabbing the carton from behind a package of frozen meat, Abby turned around to find that the her queer guest had entered the kitchen as well, his arms folded behind his back and looking around the room with mild interest.

Immediately concerned by the lack of conversation and abundance of awkward silence, she cleared her throat. His eyes snapped to hers.

"What did you say your name was again?" she questioned, while taking out four large brown eggs, almost letting one drop.

He let out a breathy laugh and grinned, his teeth equally as white as his clothes.

"Oh. How rude of me. I'm Paul."

Abby shook the hand he held out to her and introduced herself as well. She instantly took note of his firm grip and the focused stare of his eyes, as if he were devoting all his attention to her. It wasn't flattering at all; she felt considerably intimidated by this polite and docile gentleman. Everything about him made her feel somewhat... wary.

"You must have a well paying job." Paul commented, placing his arm back and shifting lightly on his feet.

"Um... I don't work. Why?" Abby responded, confused by his unforeseen desire to talk. She wanted to turn her attention back to the eggs, but now that he'd finally decided to become a bit more open she had no intention of being rude.

"Oh, so your husband works? I was just wondering..." he shrugged, bringing his hands forward and clasping them over each other. "I mean, it's not that easy to afford something like this." He nudged his head at his surroundings.

"Oh, no, I don't own this!" Abby shook her head, realizing that Paul was referring to the house. "I'm here with a few of my friends for a paintball weekend. This belongs to one of my friend's parents! And I'm most definitely not married..." She felt her cheeks flushing but tried to take no notice.

He raised an eyebrow but at the same time nodded in recognition.

"Well, that's understandable." he said, as if the matter needed his approval. Paul's voice, it seemed, had gained a more prominent strength in projection than before.

Abby smiled uncertainly at him, and he gave a quick smile in return. Feeling the awkwardness creep up on the now non-existent conversation, she turned her attention back to the eggs. A gnawing feeling developed in her stomach, and she was suddenly eager to get this peculiar stranger out of the house. 

As she opened her mouth to ask him whether he needed a carton to carry them in or not, harsh shouts began emanating from the living room, interrupting her.

Paul opened his mouth in a slightly puzzled way and looked into the hallway, his brow furrowed.

"Dear God..." Abby moaned, now wholly red in the face, even feeling her chest heat up. This was the ultimate embarrassment.

"Just ignore them," she sputtered, turning around and nervously putting the eggs in a smaller carton. "Two of my friends... they haven't been on good terms with each other lately... that's probably them. They've been like this all evening."

"Hm." he uttered absentmindedly, appearing bored with the situation.

He smiled at Abby as she turned around with the carton firmly held in her hands, and received it carefully.

"Thank you again." he spoke smoothly, pivoting around to leave. "Excuse me for intruding."

"Abby, who was at the do– "

Without being able to warn Paul, Abby simply watched as he and Connor crashed into each other at the kitchen entrance, and as the egg carton made contact with the floor. Connor grabbed Paul's shoulders to steady him, and quickly stepped back.

"Oh dude, I'm so sorry man!" Connor exclaimed, anxiously watching as Paul grimaced and placed a hand over his head were they'd collided.

"The eggs..." was all he uttered, piercingly looking Connor into the eyes, who muttered his apologies once more and knelt down to pick up the broken shells. Paul merely moved to the side lazily, placing his hands behind his back, and peering solemnly at the mess.

Abby hurriedly moistened a rag and fell to her knees to compile the sticky chaos that was gradually spreading across the tiles. Vincent and Lindsay's bickering was still easily heard from the kitchen, which Abby tried to tune out as Connor struggled to speak with her.

"Who _is _this guy?" he muttered, hardly worrying about being overheard.

"He's from next door..." Abby snapped quietly enough that she wasn't to be heard over the screaming, shoving the carton to the side. "He needed some eggs; don't be rude."

"Well he's not doing a very good job of being friendly himself..." He gave her a furious glare.

"No, it's just _you_ and _your short temper _when it comes to other guys!" Abby let slip bitterly.

She glanced up, but flinched when she saw Connor's hurt expression. Hesitantly lowering her eyes, she concentrated on cleaning up, hoping he'd ignore her uncalled-for judgment and that Paul hadn't overheard their disconcerting dialogue.

Paul coughed.

"This is some good quality material."

From behind her bangs Abby peeked at Paul, whose eyes were shimmering... almost _gleefully._

She followed his gaze to the knife perched loosely on the palm of his hand.

This was getting ridiculous.

"Okay, that's it!" she snapped at Paul. But before Abby had even registered the idea of getting up, a terrifying smirk crossed Paul's face, and his arm struck down in one fluid motion.

Nausea overcame Abby as she heard the knife make impact with flesh and bone and Connor screamed. She watched with mute horror as his hands shot to the open wound in the back of his thigh.

Her whole body clenched but finally reacted when Paul tore the blade from Connor with a sickening sound. Panic. Short, meaningless thoughts flicked through her mind. She couldn't scream as she stared wide-eyed at the psychopath. But something. She had to do something. Her legs reacted as she lurched to her feet, and cried a stupid question.

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"_

The blade lashed out at her, covered in Connor's blood. The man... _Paul..._ shook his head and looked at her fiercely, every muscle in his body completely relaxed.

"Don't worry." he breathed menacingly, drawing tiny circles in the air with the weapon. "I've done this too many times before to get it wrong... Now, if you'd be so kind as to tend to your whimpering boyfriend. He seems to be making quite a mess." His tone of voice became disgustingly sweet and calm, and he combed his hair back leisurely with his unarmed hand.

The blade moved closer to Abby's face and she complied, gently getting to her knees with her hands raised.

Her thoughts were fogged by adrenaline. She knew she had to do something, but the circumstances were preventing her mind from developing any rational thoughts. All Abby could register was the image of Connor crumpled together on the floor. She crawled next to him and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"I'm here, it's fine... You're fine..." Abby whispered reassuringly, placing his arm over her shoulders and pushing him up. Connor moan and his breathing was short and heavy as he sat himself down onto his functioning leg. She leaned over to place pressure on his wound but he gritted his teeth and grabbed her hand.

"Come... here." Connor grunted quietly, pulling her between his arms and placing his head over hers protectively, shielding her from Paul, who just stood, staring down at them with the shadow of a grin on his lips. Abby turned her attention to Connor's pained face and gripped his arm.

"I need to stop the bleeding."

Abby didn't know if she couldn't or _wouldn't_ cry.

She remained emotionless. Paul had made her feel weak and pathetic but the initial shock was wearing off and Abby knew what she was up against now. She could think logically again.

She was furious for not reacting immediately, but the fact that he'd harmed Connor so mercilessly made her aware that he was unpredictable, and definitely satisfied by money.

Abby ignored Paul, feeling that any acknowledgment of his presence would impel another attack. Besides, she still had Lindsay, Vincent and Richard in the living room... Five against one with a knife seemed like good odds. She just needed time...

But they were still shouting at each other, oblivious to the events going on in the kitchen. Abby felt a short burst of anger at her friends.

Connor's bleeding became incessant; the wound was minimal, but the blood just kept on seeping out, covering her hands. 

Abby became dizzy and put more pressure onto his leg. What if a main artery had been punctured? Her heart flipped out and she looked to Connor's face which appeared paler than normal. He seemed to vividly see the fear in her eyes, because he gripped her hand and began rubbing it with his thumb; something that had always calmed her down...

Somewhere, a door slammed.

Paul, who until now had been leaning against the kitchen counter and observing them with the shadow of a grin on his lips, looked alertly towards the hallway.

Abby glanced up, letting herself hope, just for a second, that Vincent would enter the kitchen, see what was going on, and get help. Maybe it would all end in only a few seconds and she could go home. All she wanted to do was go home at that point. All Abby wanted was to see her family again, and to go back when life was simple. She wanted to go home and just... live.

Ungraceful footsteps echoed in the hallway and Abby felt her heart jump into her throat. A deep chuckle from Paul made her nauseous, and she couldn't help but look up at him.

He looked at her, as if daring her to do something, before turning his gaze to the kitchen entrance.

"_Paul!_" chimed a male voice from the hallway, just barely heard over the shouts still coming from the living room.

Chills shot through Abby as a second young man, slightly heavier, but also completely clad in white, appeared in the doorway. He wore an excited and immature grin from ear to ear, and had also been drenched by the rain.

"The door was unlocked, and you were taking a while..." the second young man said, addressing Paul. He removed his greasy hair from in front of his eyes with a swipe of his hand.

"Oh, no worries, Peter." Paul replied, smiling reassuringly. "Our hostess here – " he motioned with one hand at Abby. " - was a bit distracted by other company."

"I'm not your hostess." Abby barked fiercely, all feelings of previous hope leaving her in an instant.

Peter snorted. Paul's calm smile remained on his face.

These two men... these two _psychopaths_ were far from done with them.

Abby felt Connor push away her hand from his leg and painfully hoist himself up by the kitchen counter.

"_What the fuck do you want?_" he growled, ignoring the blood now freely seeping from his leg. He stood in front of Abby protectively, but his posture was weak, and his leg began to shake.

Abby frantically leaped up and grabbed his arm.

"Stop it." she whispered warningly, trying to pull him back. Connor stood firmly, ignoring her, his anger and attention completely focused on the two intruders.

Peter raised both eyebrows and gave Paul a questioning glance.

"Our hosts don't seem too fond of us. What did I miss?"

"Nothing, really." shrugged Paul, frowning, but then peered at the bloody knife in his hand. "I might have been a little to eager to start playing..."

He took a look at Connor's mangled leg and smiled.

"But I think we can get over that soon enough."

Peter followed his gaze, and spotted Connor's wound.

Abby noticed as Peter's smile vanished from his face and he suddenly looked irritated. Paul noticed as well, and his smiled disappeared too.

The sudden change in atmosphere between the two confused Abby, and she watched in mute shock as Peter didn't shout, but clenched both his fists and began whispering softly. His blue eyes flashed with a strange kind of anger.

"Why did you start without me again?" he murmured, his chin quivering.

Paul remained quiet for a moment, looking as if he were contemplating whether or not to actually answer, yet he remained unfazed by Peter's attitude. The real control was obviously still in his hands.

Abby and Connor were rendered speechless, both their eyes transfixed on the imposters.

"Please, Tubby, get over it." Paul finally replied, leaning against the kitchen counter leisurely.

Peter's eyes began brimming with tears, and his breathing became shallow.

"It's not fair! You _promised_ I could start this one out!"

"Peter – "

"_No!" _Peter protested loudly. "You think I'm too stupid!"

He paused to let out a strangled sob, while Paul simply looked at him, patiently waiting for more of his petulant ridicule.

"And maybe I am..." Peter continued and began rubbing at his red eyes. "And you're right about me being fat. It's all my fault that the Ekwall kid got away..."

Abby felt Connor grab her protectively when Paul slowly walked over to Peter, who was now letting the tears run down his face freely. This wasn't normal... the two were certainly giving the impression of being distracted, but her gut told her it was all a dramatization. A perverse dramatization...

Paul, carefully holding the knife away from Peter's frame, gave him a hug, hushing him with calming noises.

"Now, now..." he cooed, patting Peter on the back and giving him a quick peck on his forehead. "It all turned out okay, didn't it? I mean, we had to kill Freddie earlier than usual, but the chase _was_ pretty entertaining, wasn't it?"

To Abby's disgust, Peter sniffled and let out a tiny giggle at Paul's comment.

Paul's smile returned and he looked amused.

"See? You know that made the night more fun." He ruffled up Peter's hair.

Peter smiled, wiping away the remainder of his tears, and laughed.

"Yeah. I guess so..."

Abby deliberately drew Connor backwards slowly, against the kitchen counter. The aura had changed considerably, and she felt their little dilemma coming to a close... Soon the attention would be back on them. But as long as Paul was holding that knife, they had little options.

Abby still heard occasional strings of shouted profanity from the living room. How could her friends be that oblivious? Hadn't they been gone for an awfully long time?

"You'll have to excuse Peter's behavior." Paul continued, and it took Abby a few seconds to grasp that he was addressing them. "He gets jealous easily. I have to be completely fair. My head-start was uncalled for."

He frowned, handing the knife to Peter.

"Just wanna be fair..." Peter muttered sheepishly, looking at Abby with what seemed to be an embarrassed blush.

It dawned on her an instant too late.

Peter's arm, even quicker than Paul's, it seemed, slashed down, lodging the knife up to the hilt into Connor's already wounded leg. He hit the floor, Peter nearly going down with him, and let out another agonizing screaming that matched Abby's.

She flung herself towards him, but was immediately torn back by Paul's force. His iron grip on her arm and the pressure of a knife between her shoulder blades warned her not to move. Attempting a kick between his legs, she flung herself around. Her retaliation was met with a punch to the face, and a strong hand grabbing a fistful of her hair, wrenching her head back.

"Calm your pretty little head, sweetheart." Paul growled into her ear, just slightly out of breath. This time, the knife was near her throat.

Abby ignored him, knowing it was futile. Instead, she focused her attention on Peter, who had knelt down next to Connor and grabbed the knife. She whimpered as he twisted the knife in odd directions and angles, before slowly sliding it out of the flesh. Connor let out low, guttural cries of pain, pulling himself away from Peter. A massive pool of blood now covered the kitchen floor.

"Fair?" Paul questioned Peter.

Peter nodded in reply.

Sounds of someone running through the house interrupted the brief silence. An instant later, Lindsay's panting figure stood in the doorway, an expression of shock sliding onto her face at seeing the gruesome scene situated in the kitchen.

"Wha - "

Paul immediately took control of the situation.

"Good evening. Any sound, and you're going to have to stitch her head back on."

He pulled Abby's hair back, and made the knife more visible to prove a point. Abby stepped back, trying to avoid the blade, but just found herself closer to Paul, who, to Abby's disgust, pressed his body into hers.

Lindsay gasped, searching Abby's face for any hint or advice. She knew nothing.

"Wh-what... do you want?" She finally got out. Her knuckles slowly turned white as her hand gripped the frame of the entry way.

"Kindly show us to where your other friends are." Paul ordered. "And Peter, grab that useless sack." He indicated Connor with a jerk of his head, and anger boiled up inside Abby.

Lindsay simply watched as Peter bent down and offered a helping hand to Connor, who smacked it away. Peter let out a haughty laugh, and placed a harsh kick into his open wound.

Abby let out an angry cry that matched Connor's, as she watched him grow even more pale, clawing at his disgusting leg with shaky, bloody hands. She writhed against Paul, stopping as she felt the knife nick her throat, and her blood grew cold.

Paul crushed Abby's body between his arms.

"Please," she gasped, her hands scrambling at his arms to pull them away, "Let her... S-she can."

Lindsay wrenched her gaze from the seeping gash in Connor's leg.

Peter threw Paul a questioning glance. Abby felt him shift.

"You heard her, darling.", he addressed Lindsay. "Help him." he nodded his head towards Connor, over whom Peter was standing, impatiently biting his lip, but grinning, nonetheless.

Lindsay awkwardly helped Connor to his feet. His large body supported by her delicate frame seemed a mistake, yet they coped.

"It's nice to see some courtesy." Paul mused. "Now, this way, if you please."

Paul made his way towards the kitchen door, nearly dragging Abby along with him. His strength was excessive for a man of his size, and he didn't struggle when Abby let all her weight hang, trying to hinder him.

It seemed hopeless. For her, for Connor and Lindsay. But not yet the others. She knew it could get her killed. But she had to.

"GET OUT! RUN!" she roared, and not moment later, Paul's hand came across her face with a resounding smack. Connor shouted.

Paul clicked his tongue impatiently, but there was defined anger in his voice when he spoke.

"You're such a cheater, sweetheart." he laughed, covering her mouth roughly with his knife hand. "And what a useless cheat, too."

Just as soon, he swept into the double door entrance of the living room.

"Fuck!"

Both Vincent and Richard sprung up, from their spots, but not before Paul calmly interrupted them.

"Good evening, gentlemen." were his only words, and he brought the knife back to Abby, low against her neck. He was composed, his breathing slow and steady. No shaky hands, no rapid heartbeat, she felt. He had done this too often before.

They were in his territory now.

"Peter." Paul called out, rather cheerily.

Peter appeared, leading Lindsay and a struggling Connor into the living room. As Lindsay knelt to sit Connor down on the couch, Peter went to her side.

"Here, please... let me help." he offered, not unkindly. He met Lindsay's confused and disgusted expression with a shy smile. His hand reached out to Connor, whose shock had frozen him. Yet Peter's touch made him react, and he smacked his hand away with brute force.

Peter frowned, and backed away to were Paul stood with Abby.

Lindsay reclined Connor onto the couch. She slowly stood back up, looking uncertainly at Peter and Paul in turn.

"Well, go ahead. Join them." Paul answered.

"What the fuck! What the FUCK is going on?" Vincent shouted as Lindsay fled to his side. Not daring to move from where he stood, he grabbed his girlfriend and pushed her behind himself protectively. Richard stood not far from him, looking frantically at Connor on the couch, then at Abby.

"They're not being very nice." Peter whined.

"They're not being very nice." Paul agreed.

"What do you want?"

Richard spoke for them, stepping forward, his hands outstretched in a gesture of peace.

"We have plenty of money, if you need it." he continued, speaking clearly, as if it would appease the two psychopaths who held his friend's life in their hand. "Please, let her go."

Paul gazed at the Richard thoughtfully. He turned to Peter.

"Tom, go ahead and look around for anything useful we could use. With this many players this game could get pretty interesting."

"Sure thing, Jerry." said Tom – no, _Peter –_ and smiled gleefully before walking off.

There was silence. The only sound were Peter's load footsteps in his white sneakers, as he made his way around the house, and up the stairs.

In the room, the only sound was labored breathing.

Paul began to whistle.

It was a tune that Abby recognized all to well. Shivers ran down her spine as Paul's piercing whistle played out the melody. _My Favorite Things_. Such a beautiful childhood song...

As he whistled, he swayed. His body moved hers along, an unwilling dance. It was an awkward three-step that he lead her in, around in a little circle.

Who were they? These men, who changed names with ease? Abby wished she could recoil from Paul – or _whoever _he was. She already knew he was volatile... but she had no idea what set him off. She had to tread with ease. He was unpredictable, and undoubtedly the leader... Peter, she knew, was the loyal dog.

Despite herself, Abby found she could think in this moment of calmness.

Something to arm herself with... that's what she needed. Anything she could do to get away, she needed to do. Yet, for each possible scenario that flicked through her mind, one thought always countered it.

_ What about the others?_

Regardless of what Abby did, Paul could use any of her friends as leverage. When the opportunity came, would she be able to leave them to save herself?

Her thoughts were once again interrupted.

Peter was back. In his hands, he held what had formerly been items of fun and entertainment. Now, they looked as formidable as any real gun.

"Paintball guns." stated Peter excitedly. "We've never had these before!"

Paul pushed Abby unceremoniously onto Connor, who caught her as best he could, and grabbed a loaded gun.

"Ladies and gentlemen." he exclaimed, a terrifying smile on his face. "Tonight's entertainment."

.

**Well. That escalated quickly.**

**And so we go...**


End file.
